


Burial

by CactusCowboy



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Angst without a happy ending, Body Horror, Descriptions of gore, Gore, M/M, Other, after ending exploration, ending of rdr2 spoilers, implied arthur/charles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-30
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:13:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26732680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CactusCowboy/pseuds/CactusCowboy
Summary: After the pre-epilogue events of rdr2, Charles goes back to Beaver Hollow to retrieve the dead bodies of both Susan Grimshaw, and his partner, Arthur Morgan.
Relationships: Arthur Morgan & Charles Smith, Arthur Morgan/Charles Smith
Comments: 1
Kudos: 37





	Burial

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a long time ago and posted it to tumblr, and my AO3 page was looking pretty empty so I decided to post this here! My writing was very rusty when I wrote this so please excuse me if it's a bit bad...
> 
> The Charthur in this story is more implied than anything, it's up to reader interpretation. I hope you enjoy it anyways!

It took only a day for the story to be relayed to Charles. The black ink on the Annesburg local newspaper read ‘Van Der Linde Gang Camp Found And Infiltrated By Pinkertons’. Under the large captions was a summary of the happenings in Beaver’s hollow. A quote from Agent Ross explaining the details of the case. But one line stood out.

“Two gang members were found dead at the scene. One, an older woman found at the mouth of the cave who was identified as Susan Grimshaw, a conspirator with the Van Der Linde gang for many years, received a shot to the stomach and bled to death. Another, a middle-aged man found on a cliff edge in the forests near beaver hollow who was identified as Arthur Morgan, another outlaw that ran with the gang. It is suspected that he tried to jump off a cliff in an attempt to escape and ended up falling to his death as his body was found beaten and bruised.”

Charles had to graze his eyes over the quote over and over again before he could process what he had read. He knew things were bad. That was why he stayed with the Wapiti. He tried to make himself believe it was because they needed help. Because they needed him…but he knew in the back of his mind it was his way to escape. Arthur was right. Things were pretty much done. Ever since the day Arthur told him about his illness…the last day he saw him–he knew he would die soon. But reading those printed black words forced him to face the fact that he did die.

Even when the shocking news was thrust along him, he couldn’t have a moment to mourn his lost brother. The night he got the news he knew what he had to do. Deep into the night, after being left alone to process the bad news by Rains Fall, he announced to those still awake that he would be leaving and may not be back for some time. Soon after he packed supplies onto his horse and rode off in the dead of night with the bright constellations of stars still shining in the sky and the sounds of cricket songs ringing in his ears.

He wasted no time to get from the far mountains where the Wapiti temporarily resided and towards the coal mining town of Annesburg. As he rode past the docks of Van Horn it began to fall into morning, which was fittingly dreary. The sky was stuck in a mourning mix of light and dark gray and light drops of rain would fall like soft teardrops for the fallen. His only break from riding happened here when he rode into the nearby stables. Once he exited the stables he had a second mare in tow, following Taima by a lead. The horse was cheap, ugly, underweight, and a perfect temporary horse for what he needed.

Soon after his stop it didn’t take long before he rid past the mines of Annesburg and began trotting through the nearby forests towards beaver hollow. He intentionally slowed down as he approached the site. He was cautious. He didn’t know if there were more Pinkerton investigations going on there, and he was sure the Murfree Brood would be looking to take their camp back soon.

As his horse turned the corner onto a shallow, and familiar, cliff edge, the base of the camp came into view. The site was trashed as if things were cut short in the middle of a rush to leave. He pulled back on Taima’s reins until she slowed to a stop and soon dismounted her. His heart was stuck heavy in the bottom of his chest as he walked towards the ruins of what once was the feared Van Der Linde gang’s camp. Soon after entering he found her body laying on the cold stone ground.

He wasn’t surprised that the Pinkerton’s just left her body to rot. They weren’t the type to make an effort like that. Their job was to get rid of those they were paid to and the bodies that were left could be handled by someone else.

He walked with heavy steps as he approached her body, and the sight was one that would be burned into the back of his mind for the rest of his life. He wasn’t too close with Susan. He had only been riding with them for a couple of months. But seeing her body, pale with blood covering the left side of her stomach and her deep brown eyes devoid of life, made him miss the constant yelling and nagging at the men and women in the camp. As he approached her he kneeled down on one knee as he hovered over her body. His hand was gentle as it approached her face and his fingers pushed her eyelids down to a close so that she may finally rest.

He allowed there to be a few moments of silence, of mourning for the loss of Miss.Grimshaw, and then he carefully picked up her fragile body. He walked slow and was gentle with the way he handled her. He didn’t want to disturb her body in any way as he transported her. He approached his horses and called over the new mare he had picked up. He mounted Miss.Grimshaw’s body across the hind of the animal. Now all he had to do was find Arthur.

It took him a bit of time and searching before he found him. The article was pretty unspecific about where his body was found, only mentioning he was found on a cliff edge nearby. Taima followed close behind him as he hiked though the rocky hills nearby the camp grounds. He searched for over an hour, and soon he began to doubt that his body was still there. Did an animal pick him up? Did the Pinkerton’s take his body in for the bounty on his head? Those questions ran through his head and caused a tightening in his chest. He would never forgive himself if he was too late to give him the proper burial he needed. Arthur…he deserved so much more than being dumped in the back alleyway of a sheriff’s office. He was a good man, despite his past mistakes. Charles was sure the reason why he didn’t see Tilly, Mary-Beth, Josiah, Abigail, and Jack’s names in that article was because of Arthur’s doing. The reason why his own name wasn’t in the article was because of Arthur.

After searching around for over an hour and double, no, triple checking every area, he finally found himself on a steep cliff with a view of the horizon and the sun slowly rising behind the dark clouds. Upon the damp cold grey rocky cliff laid Arthur’s body. He rested on his side, his eyes facing the sun rising in the East. Charles didn’t realize how unprepared he was to see him. He had been searching for him for so long, hoping that if there was a God above that he would guide him to the body of his friend…he never really processed that his searching would eventually lead to him having to face the truth head on. That Arthur Morgan had passed.

His body quivered as he took slow steps towards his friend. He didn’t even look like himself anymore. His skin was pale and covered with large bruises that lead from his face down his arms. The dark circles that appeared under his eyes as proof of his illness seemed so much more prominent now than they did before. His eyes…his blue-green eyes that reminded him of a deep blue river running through an emerald green valley were hazed over and empty. The beautiful soul that used to rest behind the pools of soft blue and green now gone.

Charles wasn’t one to feel so overwhelmed with emotion that he would cry. The last time he remembered crying was when his mother was taken away when he was a child. But, as he kneeled down next to Arthur and gently pushed at his shoulder so he may lay on his back, tears welled up in his eyes without warning. His lip quivered and as much as he tried to bite it back tears began to flow from his deep brown eyes like waterfalls. A weak sob fell from his lips and he ducked his head down with shame.

“Oh, Arthur…” His voice cracked as he said his name. He stayed in that position for a while, shaking and sobbing over his body with no signs of stopping. The shock had finally hit him and he wanted to badly to deny what he saw in front of him. He wanted the warmth to come back to Arthur’s cheeks and the soul to return to his eyes. He wanted him to sit up and tell him 'It’s okay, I’m still here.’. But of course, that was a fantasy that just couldn’t be true. Charles began to take in deep breaths of the cold air to soothe himself, and he had to take some time before he was fully composed again.

He lifted his head up and looked at Arthur’s face again, into his eyes. His hand reached over and pushed his eyelids down with a touch as soft as a whisper. 'Lay to rest, my brother’ he thought.

At this point the sun was beginning to peak in from the gray clouds that covered the sky and a warmth began to fall over the cliffside and the forestry around it. Charles knew he didn’t have time to sit there with Arthur and think about all the things he wished he did or said to him. He knew he had to hurry to properly bury his friends before decomposition set in and they would be too difficult to transport. His responsibly finally pushed himself past his greif and he hooked his arms beneath Arthur’s knees and his back. He lifted his body up from the cold ground and swiftly carried him over to Taima. He was careful as he laid his brother over the hind of the horse. Once he had retrieved the bodies he soon headed off, leaving Beaver Hollow behind, hopefully, for good.

He buried Miss.Grimshaw first. At the top of a cliff in a forested area that showed the scenery of the Elysian pool and the Kamassa river. He wanted her to rest in a place where she overlooked the grassy planes and wide rivers much like she overlooked the people in the gang. It was a beautiful spot and one he hoped she might like, though she would not be able to see it. For the moment he marked her grave with a large stone, knowing he would have to return back to it later to label her grave with a cross.

After he buried Miss.Grimshaw he went to bury Arthur. He had a perfect spot that he wanted to lay his friend to rest. On the side of the mountain there was a flat area perfect for his grave. Anyone that would visit his grave would face the west, as a reminder of where Arthur had came from and where he longed to be. Of course, the ground on the mountain was too rocky and hard to dig through, so beneath the mountain, under his gravestone his body was buried in the soft soil below.

Though it only took Charles two days to finish burying his friends he did not return to the Wapiti tripe for a full week. He spent his time camped out nearby Arthur’s burial ground. He took the quiet time to himself to mourn and carefully put together his and Miss.Grimshaw’s grave markers. Susan’s was a simple cross engraved with her name upon it. Charles felt that he should do more than a wooden cross for Arthur. The man had changed his life completely after less than a year of riding with him. He had saved him. The least he could do was make his grave a beautiful one. He spent a day forming and carving into the wooden cross for him until he was satisfied with the result. 'ARTHUR MORGAN’ across the middle and 'Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness’ in the ring around it. He tried his best to encapture the man he knew in a simple quote, and though he felt it wasn’t enough to represent the complexity of Arthur he felt like it was the most he could do.

Soon after placing the gravestones he had spent the rest of his time out planting flowers at the base of Arthur’s grave. He made sure to plant flowers he knew would grow well in the rocky area. He picked bright colored ones to represent his life and celebrate it.

It took seven full days before Charles had returned to the tribe. His ride home was slow and solemn compared to his ride out. He was pleased with how he had laid them to rest, and with his days of peace and mourning over he was ready to go back to aiding the tribe for as long as he can. When he rode back into the tribe campsite the looks the natives gave him were ones filled with sympathy. Filled with a sorrow for just knowing what he had returned from.

Throughout his days with the Wapiti tribe, or his late nights fighting in Saint Denis, or the long days working hard to help build John’s home, or his time spent with his family in Canada, he will never forget Arthur Morgan or the sacrifices he made for him and his friends.


End file.
